Trinity of Avians
by Rainbow Stevie
Summary: AU futurefic. A riding mishap leaves Tommy critically injured, and to save him, Kim must draw on the strength of some former friends…
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer:Wow, it's been a long timesince I've had to put a disclaimer at the beginning of my work.How do these things go again? The words sound so awkward. How about...I do not own the characters and do not intend to profit from themin any recognizable way. I mean at all! I do not intend to profit from them in any way, shape or form becausethey belong exclusively to Saban and possibly now ABC Family and/or other companies. This is purely for my own personal enjoyment.

Author's Notes: I always did love the characters a hundred times more than the actual premise of the show. This story started out trying to be an original with borrowed characters in mind, but a twist halfway through both gave it a title and brought it sharply back to the fan fiction realm. Nevertheless, it is set somewhere in the future, with lots of pets mentioned in great detail, and comparatively little tying it back to the show whose name I still can't seem to write. Anyway, I wrote the first draft in 1999-2000, put it aside, and came back to begin revising itFeb. 2006.Let's see if my writing has matured at all…

Trinity of Avians 

Pale summer sun filtered through the window and onto Kim Hart's honey brown hair. The young woman lying in bed blinked sleepily and looked at the clock, grimacing at the glowing green digits spelling out 6:01. The sharp yap of her little terrier woke her further.

"All right, Wiley, I'm coming," she called to her black and white Jack Russel.

This time of morning was chilly no matter what the season, so it was with some reluctance that she shifted the duvet cover off her body. Lightly tanned calves and bare feet complemented the oversized T-shirt and cloth boxer shorts she slept in.

Reaching her bathroom, Kim splashed some cold water over her face and brushed her hair into a wispy bun at the nape of her neck. The dog whined and stood on his hind legs, waving his paws, drawing her attention away from her own reflection and back to him.

"Fine, I'll get you your food NOW, just because you know so many darn cute tricks," she smiled. Wiley perked his ears up and followed her into the kitchen. Betsy, a lanky brown hound mix stood and stretched in a bow while Jessa, her piebald rescued Greyhound, lifted her head from the floor and yawned.

Kim gave the dogs their food and began making her morning tea while they crunched noisily on the kibbles. She moved automatically through the cozy, homey kitchen, her hands lovingly tracing the ornamental woodwork on the edge of one cupboard. She had lived here only a few years, but it felt like forever. Since deciding to retire from competitive gymnastics, she had moved out here to central Minnesota, where she and her family had lived when she was little. She had purchased the small country home, too small for a proper title but nevertheless unofficially dubbed Deepdale, in order to realize her childhood dream of keeping horses again. Though a long way from the sunny states she had lived in for most of her life, it felt, oddly enough, the most like home.

The kettle's mild shriek startled her from her reverie, and she got up to finish preparations. Carrying the hot beverage in her favorite glazed-clay mug, she went to sit in the large bay window in the living room, gazing out at her land. In the uncultivated meadow on the other side of the driveway, a pair of cottontail rabbits were delicately cropping the grass, beady black eyes on constant lookout while jaws worked furiously to chew and swallow the material. A black crow cawed raucously somewhere out of sight, and a car drove past on the lonely country road.

Watching the pastoral scene, Kim felt suddenly compelled to capture the beauty in a painting. Crossing the room to her artistic corner, she pulled out her easel and watercolors. She began to dab a spread of green across the bottom – just as Ned rolled off the arm of a nearby chair and lovingly brushed against the paper.

"Ned Kelly!" she cried, plucking the longhaired black cat off her lap and depositing him onto the floor. "You've got paint all over your fur and my pants, and left cat hairs all over my paper. You do know you are an absolutely worthless creature, do you not?" Still, she smiled as she scolded. She wasn't really angry, and had to let the horses out anyway. Fully aware of this, the laid-back Ned purred as she brought him back to the kitchen for a damp towel to clean him off.

Once finished, after setting her half-empty mug on the counter, she opened the door for the dogs and let them gambol alongside her as she went around the curving path that led to the stable, the corner of which was only just visible from the house through a shield of trees. This teasing view opened up into a magnificent entrance. The barn was older than the house, which had been built within the past decade, but its rustic look only made it more impressive. It was a classic double-door red barn, complete with hayloft, and crossbar windows on the front kept scrupulously free of cobwebs. Though her usual riding area was confined to rolling fields, the barn itself was framed by a lovely stand of trees, pine and hardwoods, a picturesque path winding into them.

Inside were ten stalls, five on either side of the center aisle, with the back of the barn reserved as space for tack, brushes, and other assorted horse paraphernalia, including the plastic containers used to store grain and feed supplements. It was one of the latter that she wheeled out to the center aisle, to distribute the equine breakfasts.

Fireside Shanty, a dark bay Morgan, whinnied a greeting from the first stall on the left. She called him by name, wheeling the grain tub over the center of the aisle. Over the open door, she poured half a scoop into the dish attached to his door. He stood patiently in place, graciously waiting for her to invite him to eat. His manners were impeccable, she thought, nudging him forward. Though pedigreed and registered, a club foot had made him less desirable in the show ring, and his price had been ridiculously low. She couldn't have asked for a better first horse.

"You really are my favorite, beautiful boy, aren't you?" she crooned, stroking his glossy neck. He snorted and blew into her ear. With some reluctance, promising to come back in a bit, she moved on to the next stall and smiled fondly at the small, plump brown pony within. Buddy was so short he could only get the tip of his nose to reach the top of the Dutch door, but this never stopped him from trying to greet visitors. Pretending not to notice the gray on his face – he was older than she was – she smiled fondly at the early memories of "Butty," as he had caused her considerable amounts of grief at her first riding lesson.

Riding had gone out the door when she discovered gymnastics, and Buddy sold. During her search for Fireside, 15 years later, she had bought him back to let him retire gracefully, and never regretted it for a moment. She still blessed the streak of luck that had let her find him for sale, before he went to auction and most probably slaughter.

Her thoughts were interrupted by his impatient stomp – he might have outgrown some of his younger, wilder tendencies, but not his enormous appetite.

"Somehow, I doubt the likelihood of your starving to death," she informed him, poking his rotund sides. In response, he bobbed his head and eyed her. Laughing, she fed him too – fighting, as usual, his attempts to inhale the golden kernels as they fell like drops of water from a fountain - before continuing to the middle stall to stroke a third velvety nose. The tall red chestnut Thoroughbred gelding within snorted, eyes wide, and jerked back.

"Stop it, Flame," she said, annoyed with the youngest of her horses. Strictly speaking, he wasn't hers – he was on indefinite loan from a friend who had lost her job and thus the means to care for him, and had begged Kim to take him in for a while. Kim had agreed, despite his spooky antics, chief among them trying to batter his stall door to pieces every time he heard coyotes howling.

The two mares, palomino Lady Delilah and jet-black Darka, both began to stamp their feet impatiently. The former belonged to a college professor whose work had taken him out of the country for a six-month sabbatical, and Kim had been happy to board the lanky, long-bodied mare on her land. A slim-legged, silk-maned creature, Darka was Fireside's sister, the sight of whom had enthralled Kim at her first visit. As she was not for sale, Kim had taken the gelding, but she was unable to forget the beautiful black creature, and found an excuse to return and make an offer. She reasoned that it would be nice to have a second _reliable_ horse for friends to ride, and after all, the two horses were remarkably close.

"I don't know how I do it every day, feeding all you greedy animals," she marveled as she tidied the shelves and swept the aisle free of spilled feed and bedding. An indignant squall at her feet interrupted her. Startled, she jumped away from the sound only to realize she had swept a pile of straw over Gibbs, her other cat, gray and white in color. Apologizing for having left the house without refilling the cat dishes, she picked him up and cuddled him.

"Soon as I turn out the horses, I'll bring you breakfast," she promised, kissing the soft forehead. Sometimes he liked to be carried around, but he also tended to be a bit moody, and today he struggled in protest until she put him down again. He shook himself and stalked back out the open door.

Ignoring his sulk, she reached for Fireside's halter and lead rope, noting that his grain had disappeared, and led him out to the large pasture, returning for each horse in kind until all were out enjoying the sunshine.

She had only just finished feeding the cats when the phone rang. Setting down the last refilled water dish, she went over to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Can I come over and ride Buddy?" a girl's voice asked. "I know it's early but I have to go to day-camp all day and I remember you saying you always got up early and…" The words tumbled out in a rush of breathless anticipation; Kim smiled at the nervousness in her tone.

The caller was Michelle Amera, the eight-year-old-girl across the road. Completely obsessed with ponies, she and her family were relatively new to the neighborhood. Her mother had called upon Kim once for a babysitting emergency, but Michelle had taken such pleasure showing off her equine collection that Kim, equally enthralled by her young charge's combination of enthusiasm and maturity, had offered to give her riding lessons, free of charge. The lessons had somewhat fallen by the wayside, but they had struck up a friendship, with the girl coming over to visit Buddy rather frequently. Mindful of his age, Kim only let her ride once or twice a week, but this bit of exercise kept him healthy and in good condition.

"Sure," she agreed. "Just let me talk to your mom for a second and we'll call it good." In her excitement the girl forgot to say goodbye, hanging up the phone with a clatter. Kim jumped a little at the harsh sound in her ear, and then headed out to meet her by the barn.


	2. Chapter 2

Michelle arrived in record time, even for her, and was soon busy in a flurry of grooming brushes and leather tack, getting the pony ready. Though Buddy had given Kim what she imagined was a particularly malevolent look when she had come to collect him so early in the day, he also harbored a particular fondness for the little girl who knew just where to scratch him, so his resentment abated slightly even as the saddle girth tightened around his belly. "Guess what? I got a new puppy!" Michelle said enthusiastically as Kim smoothed a saddle pad over Darka's back.

"Really? What kind?"

"A Jack Russel," she beamed. "Just like Wiley. Only she's a girl and her name's Gemma, and she's brown and white instead of black and white. And she's soooo cuddly," Michelle added.

"Gemma's a pretty name," Kim said thoughtfully. "I can barely remember when Wiley was a puppy. He actually got into less trouble back then…enjoy it while it lasts."

"Yeah, except for she already chewed up a pair of my socks," the girl complained as they led horse and pony out of the barn and found Betsy waiting by the door, wagging her tail hopefully.

"She looks like she's asking if she can come with," Michelle noted.

"And what's ever stopped you before?" Kim questioned the dog, mounting up and squeezing her knees into the black mare's sides to move her forward. Betsy jumped up to lead the way into the tall prairie grass beside the well-trampled path, nothing left in sight but her flag of a tail-tip, and Michelle guided Buddy to walk side by side. They made an amusing pair, the squat little pony plodding beside the elegant and long-limbed Morgan, but neither was paying much attention to their image today.

The meadows were beautiful, with soft sunlight beaming down upon them. It wasn't really very hot, and there was a pleasant breeze to keep the insects off. Bare hooves pressed into the soft earth below, leaving faint impressions, as they followed the winding path, and even Michelle's chatter was intermittent. Something about being on horseback out in nature simply discouraged excessive conversation. The steady swaying of the horse's body produced an almost hypnotic effect, Kim thought.

Their leisurely pace made the short trail seem to stretch out much longer than it actually was, suspending and drawing out time. Nevertheless, Kim kept a surreptitious eye on her silver-chain wristwatch, making sure they were back in time for Michelle to get to camp for the day. The latter stayed just long enough to cool Buddy down afterwards, put away the saddle and turn him loose again. Both horses were glad to regain their freedom, but Buddy made a particularly irreverent show of it, picking a spot in the grass to paw at before laying down, rolling over, and scratching his itchy back against the ground several times with legs waving in the air.

"Bye!" Michelle yelled, flitting away nearly as abruptly as she had come, and Kim could only wave. Leaning her arms on the wooden fence railing, she watched as the brown pony heaved a great sigh, rolled back to his feet and stood up to resume the serious business of grazing. Only then did she shake her head and go inside to get cleaned up. There was still the manner of her actual bill-paying job, after all.

To be fair, her job was nothing to dread. On the contrary, the atmosphere was quite pleasant. She owned a boutique in the small downtown, in which she was able to display her personal clothing and jewelry designs. Though it meant tackling more management and business decisions than her artistic temperament might have liked, it also afforded her quite flexible hours – always a benefit, she thought, as she added just a touch of lipstick and gave her hair a proper brushing, sweeping it back in on one side with a little sunflower clip of her own making. This final decoration completed the light, summery flair of her outfit, and grabbing a slim pink purse with a long shoulder strap, she counted her blessings and hoped that the gentle weather was a good omen for the day's sales.

* * *

As it happened, the balmy temperatures had encouraged droves of window-shoppers along the street, and more than a few of them came in to look around; sales registers rang with reassuring frequency, and both Kim and the two employees working that day had their fair share of customers to help.

It was early evening before Kim quit and closed up, and after the drive back, she busied herself with an easy, pre-packaged stir-fry dish for dinner before giving over to relaxation again.

Later, she briefly turned on the television, but found nothing among the summer reruns and latest batch of reality shows to capture her interest, and turned it off again. Jessa clicked her way across the linoleum and into the living room, leaning back on her haunches before nimbly leaping onto the soft sofa cushions and neatly tucking herself into the corner. Kim was leafing through a tack catalogue with one hand and absent-mindedly stroking Ned with the other, when the phone rang. The black tomcat, firmly settled in his owner's lap, eyed the source of the noise with some contempt. Trying not to disturb him, she reached over to the end table and lifted the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Beautiful, you doing anything tonight?"

"As a matter of fact," she replied, a hint of a smile on her face as she pondered the most flippant response she could think of to answer her boyfriend, "The girls and I were going to hit a few nightclubs, maybe try out some pole-dancing…" She could hear him stifling laughter at this uncharacteristic image of her, but he continued on as if he had heard nothing unusual.

"And here I was hoping you might be induced to come trail-riding with me. I know the trails at my barn make you weep with envy."

"They most certainly do not," she answered automatically, and then did a double take, or at least its aural equivalent. "Wait, _now_? It might be summer, but it _does_ still get dark," she pointed out.

"Yes, now! Come on, from your little house on the prairie, if you leave now you just might make it," he teased. "Besides, remember the view from the ridge at sunset?" Kim felt herself beginning to relent. The view there _was _beautiful.

"All right. But you make one more crack about Deepdale, and…

"I promise. Former ranger's honor. Bye."

There was a click, and then Kim hung up. "Sorry, Ned," she apologized, gingerly shifting him onto the sofa. He opened his golden eyes a crack and squinted at her, then rolled over on his back to continue sleeping in the sort of contorted position only a cat could find comfortable.

Grabbing her keys and riding boots, a sweatshirt tied around her waist in anticipation of the post-sunset temperature drop, she was heading for the door when Wiley let out a yip and ran in front of her, barking sharply.

"No, Wiley, you stay here," she chuckled, bemused. "Despite your perpetual attempts to prove otherwise, you clearly are not built for horseback riding." Suddenly, he stopped barking and sat perfectly still, staring at her in a rather eerie way. For a few seconds, Kim was inexplicably transfixed by his gaze, but then she shook her head and gently but firmly pushed him away.

"I _am_ built for horseback riding, and I will be fine," she replied. "Now goodbye." She closed the door on his quizzical little face and tried to shake the odd feeling that the dog knew something she didn't.

* * *

Notes: Hm, I thought this one would be longer. That's what I get for writing chapters out of order. Anyway…things happen in the next part, finally. 


	3. Chapter 3

Kim turned on the radio as she drove along the quiet road, and soon reached the barn his horses were boarded at, Mountain Pine Stable. She wouldn't have gone quite so far as to call the surrounding terrain mountainous, but it was at least resplendent with conifers, and admittedly hillier than her land. The ambience as warm and welcoming - a true family stable, though few people were left at the barn at this late hour. Most had put away their horses for the day, but a few stragglers here and there were hoping to steal a bit more time with their animals.

She parked the car and entered the barn in search of Tommy Oliver. They had reconnected when she left gymnastics, her supposed storybook relationship fallen through, and after graduating from college he had followed her out here, taking up residence in an apartment. Their mutual past involvement with horses was only one of the surprises she had discovered in their second time around together.

She found him – where else? – in a stall, polishing the already gleaming red coat of his horse, Rebelage, the Quarter Horse gelding who was not only his Western games pride and joy but also a superb trail navigator. Kim approached quietly, just taking in the sight of the man working. They had been together for years, but she still savored moments like this, long hair backlit to gleaming by the sun coming through the window, the muscles of his arms tight and defined.

He ducked under the horse's neck to set the grooming brushes back, and that was when he caught sight of her. She blushed, moderately embarrassed to be seen standing there, but he only winked. He'd been guilty of watching _her_ a time or two, after all.

"Howdy," he said warmly. The corners of her mouth tugged up as she stepped up to give him a quick kiss.

"And who am I riding today?" she asked. "If you're going to make a lady drive herself all the way out here, I should hope you at least did her the courtesy of prepping her horse."

In response, he nodded at the cross-ties around the corner. Catching a glimpse of pale gray hide, she put her hands on her hips in exasperation. "Not the plug _again_."

"He's the only one available on short notice. And Alabaster is not a _plug_," Tommy replied almost primly. "He is a steady, surefooted, dependable riding horse."

"With a thick neck and a Roman nose," she pointed out. "And I swear, if you mention one more time how his grandsire was a Lippizan Schooling Stallion…" Kim gave up, knowing it was useless to argue with him any further. Instead, she went over to the gelding and scratched his forehead. He snorted by way of greeting, and she gently blew a "hello" back. Despite her complaints about his conformation, he was well muscled, and his nearly white coat, complemented by a black muzzle, was soft and sleek. Still, he was no Sassy, she thought. Tommy's other horse, her usual mount at the stable, was a lovely sorrel overo Paint mare. Unfortunately, at the moment, Sassy Lady's Demise was heavily pregnant with a future foal, and Kim had been stuck riding stable-owned animals like Alabaster here for the past few months.

At least Tommy had tacked him for her. Despite her preference for English, Tommy's horses, like all the others at this barn, were Western-trained mounts, and for the sake of simplicity she followed suit when she was with him. Slipping the horse a piece of carrot – not that he needed it – she double-checked the contents of the saddlebag and then undid the lead ropes and led him outside, where Tommy was already waiting.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Giddy up, cowboy," she replied, kicking her horse into the lead. Tommy followed behind her, and the pair disappeared into the woods.

* * *

As the sun was due to set in a little over an hour, they chose one of the shorter trails. As long as you were in a well-lit part of the woods, where the canopy wasn't as thick, late evening was one of the prettiest times to ride. Most of the bugs had cleared away, and the evening pests weren't quite out yet. Admiring the dim sunlight dappling the leaves, they walked on through the warm summer woods more or less in silence, finally stopping on a high ridge overlooking the valley below, standing side by side to gaze at the setting sun. It was very soothing; time had a frozen quality, even as darkness fell around them. 

"Guess we'd better get back," Tommy said, finally breaking the quiet between them. "News said thunderstorms were due after sunset."

"Now you tell me!" she asked incredulously, swiveling her head sharply to fix him with an accusing stare. "You _know_ I have to have Flame inside; he'll jump the fence if I leave him out in that kind of weather."

He looked apologetic. "Sorry…I didn't know he was that bad."

"No, not your fault…I didn't tell you. And I really should be watching the news myself," she admitted.

"We can take a shortcut," Tommy offered. "Found it a couple of weeks ago, I just haven't had a reason to cut a ride short yet." Sliding past her, he took over the lead while she squeezed her horse's sides and followed behind him.

A minute or so after angling onto a side trail, he motioned her to a stop. "Here, see? We can slice at least ten minutes off the return trip if we go down this hill."

Kim walked Alabaster over to get a better view. She frowned. "Don't be stupid."

"What?" he asked defensively. "Just because you ride through flat prairie all day doesn't mean I haven't done some exploring. Reb and I have gone down much steeper than this."

"Please don't tell me that," she sighed, taking another peek at the treacherously sharp incline.

Tommy dismounted and tested the ground with his foot. It remained firm, without even a little telltale shifting to give it away. "Tell you what. I'll go first, and we'll wait for you at the bottom. Okay?"

Kim sighed and bit the inside of her lip. Despite the nagging voice in her head, she really wanted to get home as quickly as possible. There was no question that Flame – a trained show jumper – would pop right over the four-foot wooden fence if he were sufficiently frightened, and she didn't relish another cross-country search for a loose horse. It had been nerve-wracking enough the first time. So, against her better judgment, she agreed.

Hopping back in the saddle, Tommy clucked to Rebelage, and the obedient gelding began picking his way down the slope. Watching, Kim held her breath at first, but slowly began to relax. They had made it halfway down the slope without so much as a loose clump of dirt…no, a misstep!

Kim's eyes grew wide and the scream lodged in her throat. She watched, helpless, as the horse slipped on a stone, pitched forward, and began falling, taking the man she loved with him.

Get _help_. She tried to turn her horse around, but she was overeager in her command, and as he spun tightly, he lost his footing and began scrambling headfirst down the slope. This time Kim really did scream as her horse was forced to run faster and faster to stay upright. She closed her eyes and dug her fingers into his mane, opening them just in time to see the lake rushing up to greet her. Her first thought was that at least it would slow them down…but Alabaster, with his irrational fear of water, threw himself sideways to avoid it. Though his velocity broke almost to a standstill, he still slipped and went down hard on his haunches in the shallow water, tossing Kim off.

The wind was knocked out of her, but not badly, and the worst of her problems were a few scrapes on her hands and knees. The horse looked bewildered by his body's strange position for a minute, then clambered to his feet and shook himself, apparently unharmed. She hugged him in relief.

At that instant a flash of lightning split the sky, quickly followed by an enormous roll of thunder. Alabaster reared and whinnied in terror, completely oblivious as one of his enormous, iron-shod hooves punched her in the chest. She flew backwards and landed with her outstretched arm cracking against the ground. Her head struck a glancing blow, opening a gash above her eye. Watching his white shape take off at full speed, she lost consciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

The rain woke her up. It was dark now, and she sat up in panic, not knowing where she was, until the sharp pain in her arm brought it all back. She tried to rotate it to get a better look, but excruciating daggers suddenly shot through it, and she barely suppressed a shriek of agony. Jarred loose in the fall, the ball had slipped out of the socket when she moved. It hung unnaturally limp and overextended, begging to be reset. Gritting her teeth, whimpering all the way, she tried by degrees to force it back into place. Suddenly, as easily as it had dislocated, everything fell back into alignment. The pain vanished as if it had never been, aside from the raw scrapes and deep-set bruising.

Looking around in the darkness, she caught sight of Rebelage. The chestnut horse's head was lowered in distress, and he held his right foreleg limply off the ground. Though the skin around it remained intact, the bone was clearly broken. Alabaster had long since disappeared from sight; she could only hope he found his way back to the stable and not injured himself running loose. And Tommy…

Unable to see him from her present position, she unsteadily pushed herself to her feet only to discover that this action sent such a roaring past her ears that her vision dimmed and she nearly fainted again. _Guess I won't be trying that again_, she thought ruefully, choosing instead to crawl on hands and knees through the mud and wet grass towards Reb, trusting that he had not moved far from where he and his rider had fallen.

With more than a little trepidation, she strained her eyes until she spotted his red shirt. "Tommy?" she called softly, without really expecting a response. She got none. Afraid of what she might find, she approached cautiously, until she came within full view of him, and then she gasped.

His handsome face was a mass of cuts and scrapes. The grass around his side was stained red, and his left leg was crumpled beneath him. She wondered how he could possibly be all right, and a terrifying thought was pushing at the corners of her mind. She couldn't quite form the words to define it, but it kept her frozen in place, afraid to come any closer. Suddenly disgusted with herself, she forced herself to go to his side. Still wincing, she knelt down…there! A faint but audible breath. He was alive. Still, seeing him lying there, so vulnerable and broken, she couldn't help the tears welling up and spilling down her cheeks, mixing with the rain until she couldn't tell the difference.

Kim whispered his name, then repeated it with more volume, trying to shake him awake without causing anymore damage. Her efforts for a moment seemed fruitless, but then his eyes opened. "Kim?" He tried to sit up, but grabbed his side and fell back.

"Don't move," she warned.

"Figured that much out," he said, making an effort to joke but too weak to even smile. His eyes closed for a moment, opening again immediately, focusing on the cut on her face. "Are you hurt?"

She fought hard not to laugh at the idea of comparing her injuries to his; she was sure being at the edge of hysteria made the question sound more absurdly humorous than it was. He seemed to be concentrating very hard on his next thought. "Where's Reb?" he finally asked.

Kim bit her lip, keeping herself as a shield between his line of sight and the horse. "Injured leg. Not as bad as you, though," she lied. "At least he's standing." She was glad he didn't ask her to elaborate further. In fact, oddly enough, the statement seemed to wash over him with scarcely any effect at all.

"Sorry," he mumbled, beginning to shut his eyes again. "Should've listened to you." Alarmed, she shook him again, but with that he was once more unconscious. Swallowing hard to quell her panic, Kim finally remembered her cell phone. Tommy usually neglected to bring his, but she always had it clipped to her belt…her hand shot to her waist, knowing as she did that it wouldn't be there. She hoped it had at least fallen off somewhere near the bottom of the hill, not in the water.

A few minutes of groping blindly in the dark, however, proved in vain. Her eyes had adjusted somewhat, but the lightning seemed to have passed on and the forest afforded very little moonlight to see by, even if the rain had not been falling so thickly. A shuddering sound diverted her attention; looking back, she saw that he, though still unconscious, had begun to shake.

A moment later she had decided to take action. Relieving the injured Reb of his heavy saddle, she brought the saddle pad, dry on one side and still warm from the animal's body, over to Tommy. Tucking it over his chest, getting what little of herself she could underneath it as well, she curled up against him. Shivering along with him, Kim kept one leg draped protectively across his, the rest of her body pressed lengthwise against him. Praying for strength and rescue, suddenly exhausted, she fell asleep waiting for the sun's return.

---------------------------------

When Kim awoke the next morning, the sun was shining with deceptive, almost cruel brightness. The cut on her head was throbbing intensely and every muscle felt sore, giving her no chance at all to hope that last night had been a mere dream. Tommy was still unconscious, or perhaps only asleep, but at least he was breathing evenly and no longer shaking. His wounds looked worse in the daylight, however, reminding her again about her need to find the phone.

A small grunt from behind made her turn, where she winced at Rebelage's condition. His leg was more inflamed than before, only the tip of his hoof balanced against the ground, no weight on it at all. He apparently had not moved all night. She reached out to him, when suddenly his ears pricked up and swiveled backward.

Kim looked cautiously around, but though she neither saw nor heard what had caught his attention, she did recognize a bit of silver. The phone was in plain view, not fifteen feet from where she had been last night! As Reb let out a loud neigh, she stood eagerly and tried to take a step forward to reach it. With the movement, however, her vision swam and she collapsed. Kim felt herself checking out to the sound of the horse's shrill whinnies and – was she imagining it? – echoing voices.

---------------------------------

Later, she wasn't sure when, she felt herself being lifted off the ground. Dazed, she blinked and looked into the face of a concerned rescue worker. The man was asking her something, but she wasn't sure what he wanted. The effort of pulling her head up had exhausted her, and Kim let her head drop without answering the question. Only bits and snatches of words above her were able to cut through the curious fuzziness that had become of her hearing.

"Hear me…lie still…hospital…be okay?"

Kim managed to nod her head faintly. She wanted to know where Tommy was, and if they'd found Alabaster, and who was helping Rebelage. Yet speaking seemed an impossible feat. Wiley's stare flashed in front of her.

"I'm sorry I didn't listen to you, Wiley," she mumbled. She was drifting away again, only faintly feeling the jab of pain in her arm as she was lifted onto a stretcher, certainly not detecting the barely visible shadow that passed over the scene, sailing high in the sky, away and out of sight.

2/23 Notes: OK, off for spring break. May or may not update next week; depends on if I can wrestle computer time from my brother.


	5. Chapter 5

**3/5 Notes: I haven't updated in ages, partly because it was spring break (where computer access was rare to non-existent) and partly because the original draft of the hospital scenes was so horrid I scarcely knew how to fix it. My apologies in advance for anything that still seems not-quite-right. Grant me liberties. **

* * *

Her injuries: A few stitches, a dislocated shoulder, and a mild concussion.

His injuries: A broken leg, two cracked ribs, head trauma, and a potential spinal injury.

The discrepancy between the two was remarkable, really, and she couldn't believe it was only due to the difference in their horses' steps, especially when she'd been on a clumsy grade and Rebelage had endurance riding trophies stacked in a previous owner's home. Chance and misfortune conspired in cruel ways.

But she hadn't known all of that this morning, had only been brushed off by a string of impatient nurses every time she tried to ask if they knew anything about Tommy. Add this horrible feeling of not knowing to the fact that she'd woken up with bandages on her shoulder and a needle in her arm, it was understandable why she had snapped at the doctor when he came in to ask how she was feeling after the surgery.

"I was tossed off a horse and left in a storm overnight. How would YOU feel?"

"Fair enough. I expect I'd feel awful too," agreed the gentle-eyed Dr. Rosslund, glancing at her over the top of his glasses. "But I'm specifically concerned with your shoulder. You're on medication now and shouldn't be feeling any pain from it - are you?" She shook her head.

"Good. Sounds like everything is fine, then. We're going to keep you here for another day just to make sure the concussion didn't have any underlying lingering effects, probably discharge you tomorrow. Okay?" Impatient to get past her own diagnosis, Kimberly pressed him for information about Tommy. He apologized for not recognizing the name but promised he would try to find out. She assumed he was merely trying to make a gracious exit, and let him go, expecting nothing.

That was why she'd been so surprised to see him return an hour later. Her brief delight at the doctor's return was quickly tempered by the solemn look on his face as he told her the extent of Tommy's injuries.

"And, I'm afraid, he has not yet regained consciousness."

"What...you mean he's in a, a coma?"

"Strictly speaking, yes - "

"But I saw him, he looked bad, but he's not _that_ bad is he!" Kimberly's voice, which had begun so hesitantly, was now rising to a hysterical pitch.

"Let me finish...he's been through a tremendous ordeal, and the brain copes with the shock by shutting down, keeping him at a low level of activity to let his body start reparations. It's doubtful that he's suffered any brain damage, and the doctor working on him is optimistic that it will be a matter of days before he's awake again."

It took a while for her to process this information, not sure whether this response was any kind of comfort. A variety of emotions flitted across her face while it sank in. She frowned, trying to think of an appropriate response, but all that came out was, "Can I see him?"

"Contact is very limited right now...tomorrow you should be able to make a brief visit."

She opened her mouth to say something else, only to find herself at a loss for words and shut it again. With a sympathetic look, Dr. Rosslund left, shutting the door quietly behind him. She turned her head to discover a teddy bear sitting on the table next to her. She didn't know who'd left it here, but her face twisted with unbearable grief as the recognized the creature's somewhat faded white fur. It was the teddy bear Tommy had given her when she'd been hospitalized after a bad fall during gymnastics. She reached out and picked it up, hugging it beneath her chin as if to receive some kind of residual comfort.

"He'll be OK. He has to. He's been looking forward to Sassy's new foal for months," she whispered, trying to pretend it wasn't as serious as it sounded. The smile lost itself on its way to her lips as she looked at the stuffed animal. The bear's eyes, normally so warm and friendly, today were only hard, cold plastic staring back at her. Suddenly, she felt very small and alone, and the tears seeping down the side of her face began to feel as though they were grinding a permanent path.

**

* * *

She didn't have long to feel sad, though, before the door opened again. Swiftly and surreptitiously she dabbed at her eyes just in time to dry them before a little girl sporting a mop of curly black hair burst through the door, bearing a hand-made card and a bright pink balloon. She stopped short within reach of the bedside, eyes wide at the sight of the sling on Kimberly's arm.**

"Are you OK?" she asked, suddenly much more subdued. "Will it hurt if I hug you?"

Kim smiled in spite of herself. "I'm not that fragile," she said, but Michelle nevertheless was deliberately ginger as she wrapped her arms around Kim's neck and pressed against her, cheek to cheek, glancing back as her mother entered the room with a bouquet of blue-tinged carnations.

"I wanted to bring you chocolate, because that's what I always want when I get hurt, but I didn't know if I could bring food into a hospital. So we got flowers instead," the little girl rambled, looking suddenly afraid that this news would be too disappointing. Reassured by Kim's compliment, she went on. "Mom got your message, so we took care of the dogs and cats. I'm glad you said it's okay for the horses to stay outside, because MOM wouldn't let me go in the pasture. But at least I got to pet them over the fence, and they all came to see me. I _told_ you they're nice." This last comment was directed at her mother, who gently but firmly warned her not to pout.

"Even Flame?" Kim asked, disguising her question about his whereabouts with genuine surprise that the normally shy gelding would willingly approach anyone besides his owner.

Michelle frowned. "I thought you gave him back…he wasn't with the other horses."

Kim stifled a curse; it wouldn't do to be the one to teach an eight-year-old her first swear word. Instead she groaned, "He hates storms. He must have jumped the fence. The only thing he's more scared of than storms are the woods, so…" _So he's probably on a road somewhere. I just hope he went for the dead-end dirt road instead of the busy street._ She didn't voice the latter part of her fears, not wanting to upset either of her visitors with things they couldn't help solve, and made a mental note to call someone who would be willing to go look. To the Ameras, she simply said, "He's probably hanging out at the farm on the other side, making friends with cows and pretending he's a wild stallion."

One of the nice things about kids was their ability to switch topics without warning or transition, as Michelle did now, suddenly asking, "Hey, how come you didn't tell me you had baby raccoons in your barn?"

"What?" Kim and Mrs. Amera's voices sounded as one, with nearly equal amounts of alarm.

"Yeah, up in the hayloft. I was up there looking for Gibbs when I found them. First I thought they were kittens, cause they're really small and skinny and they were all sleeping in a ball, but then I saw their black masks. I named them Sheba and Ringo and Bandit."

"You didn't try to pet them, did you?" Mrs. Amera was hiding the fear in her voice with sharp reprimand.

"No," Michelle answered emphatically. "I just looked at them. And they looked really sad and cold, because they didn't have a mom."

"She was probably out looking for food."

"Not in the daytime. Raccoons are NOCTURNAL," Michelle replied, drawing herself importantly at the use of this vocabulary word. Kim added "animal control" to the list of people she would have to call when she got home. The visit lasted only a little while longer, during which time fortunately no further bombshells were dropped. She spent the latter half of the day trying to take her mind off things by reading, only to lay every book aside in turn, unable to concentrate on anything. She decided there was really nothing quite so dull as a barren hospital room.

_

* * *

"Discharge" was a blessed thing; her first stop was not home but to see Tommy. For as frightened as the sight of him in the woods had made her, somehow he looked even more broken now. She did not sit on the bed, as if the slightest jostling would hurt him further, but slipped into the seat beside him. Reaching for the hand unencumbered by the pulse-monitoring clip, she curled his limp fingers around hers. Her gaze remained downward, away from the glaring bandages, and she smoothed the ball of her thumb over his hand. The fingers were roughened from work but still gentle, fingers that had so many times before met hers to dance, or stroked her hair in comfort. She brought them to her lips and kissed them softly before she found the strength to look back at his face. If she blocked out the sight of the stitches and the sound of the machines she could pretend he was only at home with her, sleeping peacefully._

You were supposed to talk to people in comas, weren't you? At least, that's what they told people with family members trapped in this state for weeks and months. He would be awake in a few days, maybe that made it different. Anyway, she couldn't think of anything really profound to say, and when she did speak her words sounded forced. Hypnotized by the steady rise and fall of his chest, she gazed at him and thought instead, remembering all the reasons she had fallen in love with him.

He doted on her, more than he probably should - she couldn't remember the last time they'd really fought. If anything, it was her temper that would flare up and exacerbate whatever situation had irked her. He knew enough to simply leave and let her cool off, and still he was almost always the one that apologized first.

Tommy was nothing like Trey, in Florida, whose initially caring behavior had eventually become ugly and jealous. Kim wondered how she'd ever mistaken the latter for true love. When that relationship had fallen through, she'd taken stock of her life and moved away. It was while packing up her belongings that the collection of letters had fallen out of an upturned box - all the letters Tommy had ever sent to her, words she hadn't read in years but which were such relics of her past that she'd never dared to throw them out. After the move she had finally gained the courage to write to him again, realizing after it was sent that she didn't know if he even still lived in the same place anymore. But the letter reached its intended recipient, and he had answered, and before she knew it she was looking at him in person.

She was back under his spell the moment she saw him again, and their relationship thereafter shifted almost imperceptibly from friendship to what it had once been, with no further mention of the years apart. Having gotten this second chance, they were the luckiest couple she knew...or at least they had been. Before this.

Kim remained there quietly for over an hour before her mind really accepted the fact that he would not simply be opening his eyes. Still, she couldn't bring herself to leave just yet. It felt too much like abandoning him here, even though she knew his family had been called and would be by to visit him.

So she sat with Tommy just a little longer, humming under her breath, thinking of the soft summer days waiting and praying he would soon be able to enjoy them with her.


	6. Chapter 6

_3/6 Notes: I have been reading up on the history of these two characters on the show, most of which I never knew. My little mindis now stuffed with new pictures and quotes and video clips…almost scared me away from finishing this. I'm plunging ahead anyway. Back to the story now, we have a lot of ground to cover._

* * *

"A matter of days" became ten, then twelve. It frightened her how quickly they passed by, with never so much as a breath of change in his condition. Kim visited every day, in spite of the fact that she felt like screaming every time she saw him lying there, helpless. Her world at home remained almost the same, except for the addition of Tommy's dog, a fluffy white Samoyed named Shasta. Even Flame was back, having been found grazing with perfect nonchalance right outside the barn door when she returned. Then, however, there was the gray tin sitting on the mantle - unremarkable save for the fact that it contained Rebelage's ashes. Kim still couldn't believe the beautiful horse could be reduced to a handful of gray flakes. There had been no hope of recovery, with the bone all but shattered and much of the surrounding tissue succumbing to infection, but she still had trouble remembering that the brilliant young animal was really gone. She did not relish having to tell Tommy, if he ever woke up. When he woke up, she corrected herself. 

On the other hand, the universe had a way of evening itself out at the strangest times, and it cheered her to no end when she excused herself from work in the middle of the day to visit one Tommy Oliver, recently conscious after two weeks of drifting in and out.

His eyes lit up as she perched on the edge of his bed, where he was ever so slightly propped up against a pillow. "Hi, Beautiful. There's the sight I've been waiting all morning to see," he said, tone light but with a serious undercurrent. "Although I haven't exactly been able to do much else."

"I am just happy you are awake and talking to me," Kim answered firmly, letting her palm fondly graze his cheek, only to withdraw it at his involuntary wince.

"They told me what happened...not much more than I already knew; the horse fell and I got an up-close-and-personal tour of the hillside I'd rather not repeat. But I know you stayed with me. Thank you," he said after a moment.

She shook her head and looked away. "I couldn't even find my phone until morning, and I blacked out before I could call for help. Alabaster made it back to the stable. Empty saddles usually arouse suspicion; thank him." He didn't let her get away with refusing credit, but neither had he forgotten the final member of their party.

"And Reb?"

Why, _why_ couldn't that have been among the things they told him? To be fair, she supposed that wasn't something anyone at the hospital would have bothered to think about. Kim bit her lip, swallowing before she managed to force out the most wrenching part of the story, made worse by his crestfallen look.

"Well, I can just add that to today's pile of bad news," he growled rather bitterly, something he regretted when he saw her look of confusion, wondering what else had happened. Tommy amended, "They've just been, uh...a little vague on when I will even get out of this bed, much less the hospital entirely."

He'd had a few hours to dwell on this news, but she looked completely overwhelmed, and who could blame her? He was the strong one. He'd always been there to rescue her. It was almost more painful to be left watching. She looked down at the floor again.

"Hey…it's not all bad," he said gently, ducking his head to catch her eye. "I get to sleep in and skip work for days on end. I might even start to take a vested interest in the outcome of Rosalie's unborn baby, fathered by either Dan or Michael, one of whom might be her half-brother, while Mary battles with her stepmother for her share of inheritance money…"

Kim couldn't help herself; the giggle flew out. "Ew! Please tell that's not something you've actually been watching."

"Ah-hah! No, but at least now I know that even if I wind up in a wheelchair, I can always fall back on a career as a soap opera writer." He said it without thinking, but the mention of a wheelchair sobered her instantly.

"Is that what they said?"

"No…hey, it was just a joke. Don't worry about it. I'm sure it won't be that much longer," he said quickly, but she didn't look convinced. For as much as he wanted to enfold her in his arms, the current situation didn't really allow for that; the best he could do was reach for her hand as a worried silence fell over them. Trying to take both their minds off this heavy uncertainty, he changed the subject."How's Shasta adjusting to country life? She's okay, right?"

Kim looked grateful to move into less heavy territory. "She is okay, although I feel sorry for her with all that thick fur. No, scratch that…I feel sorry for myself having to untangle it. You know I never fully appreciated how short my dogs' hair is?" she asked. "At least she has fun running around with them all day. But she does miss you. At night she lies there by the door with her head on her paws, waiting for you to pick her up and take her home."

He smiled sadly at this picture, and seemed lost in thought for a moment. As if on cue, the nurse came in to finish her rounds, shooing Kim out in the process.

**

* * *

**

A few days later, feeling ecstatic, Kimberly ran barefoot down the center trail, forking right at the split. Bandit raced after her, little feet pounding the dirt as he pushed himself to keep pace. Wiley started to follow, but got distracted by all the interesting scents along the way and lagged behind. _Tommy's out next week! He's going to be OK! _The memory of the doctor's words, so much better today than those of the week before, sang through her mind as she kept running, pounding the dirt, in search of her favorite place on the property. It was a very old, wooden swing seat, just big enough for two children to play on – or one petite adult yet unwilling to relinquish her juvenile side. It was nestled among the trees, looking out over the shimmering, storybook lake.

Jumping onto the swing, she pulled her journal from where she had tucked it under her arm as she ran, retrieved a pen from the clip on the side, and opened the soft deerskin cover to the first empty page just past the middle of the book. Kim was normally too busy to write anything at all, and even so, several of the pages only contained scribbled ideas for song lyrics. Still, some occasions just called for it. Sitting cross-legged now, she began to write.

_So much has happened since I last wrote, I won't try to catch up on it all, but Tommy is awake and_ –

Just then, Bandit leapt into her lap, savagely shaking something green between his teeth.

No, she hadn't called animal control after all, but gone to check on the babies herself. A striped body by the side of the road made her think the babies might be orphaned after all, and a camcorder vigil confirmed that no adult raccoon entered the nest for twenty-four hours. The little creatures were in rough shape by then, dehydrated and hungry, and even though she knew she ought to at least call a wildlife rehabilitation center, she found herself collecting work gloves instead of a phone and bringing the kits out of the loft. Checking online and in reference books for what to feed them, after a day in their company she couldn't bear to give them over to anyone else. As it happened, only one of the babies was male, so Ringo had become "Starr," but both females seemed keen on avoiding her touch and only came near her to snatch bits of food off the ground. It was Bandit who had promptly attached himself to her, intent upon sharing her company despite his utter freedom to leave whenever he chose.

"Ugh, what do you_ have_?" she asked, using both hands to hold him still in order to examine the object between his teeth. She sincerely hoped it was not another dead frog. With a final, determined shake, the little raccoon shook his head and dropped it into her lap. It was a book, Kim saw. She picked it up just before the animal could fall asleep on it; with a disgruntled noise, he settled for stretching himself out on her thigh. She smiled and stroked his oddly coarse fur, softer on his head than the rest of his body. He was an illegal pet, of course, and she supposed she should be worried about the possibility of him biting her. Still, he was such a gentle animal, and so imprinted on her that she didn't think she could turn him away if she tried.

Turning her attention back to the book, its covering a dark, textured, forest-green leather, she turned it over to read "Diary" in embossed gold letters on the front. Intrigued, Kim opened the cover carefully. The pages were brittle, one corner water-damaged, but the ink was readable, she noted, upon reading the first entry.

_June 1, 1969_

_Dad gave me this journal for my birthday, but I don't think Mom even remembered. It figures. As far as she's concerned, I exist only to make her life miserable, which is why I'm outside all the time. Easier than listening to her find new faults with me every hour. Right now I'm on the swing Dad built for me, and my dog's on the ground next to me, but even with all that sometimes I just want to sprout wings and fly because...well, never mind why yet. OK back you go. I don't want Mom to find this, so I found a hiding space out here. I even have a little case for it so it won't get wrecked. _

Kim paged through the diary, sighing at the penciled entries now almost smeared out of existence. It wasn't very long; perhaps twenty pages out of a hundred had been filled with the juvenile script. The remainder had been turned into a scrapbook, filled with local newspaper stories and magazine clippings of 70's celebrities pasted in, few with dates and none with captions. It made for a fairly interesting collection, but she was disappointed to see that only one other journal entry was still legible.

_July 1970_

_In school last year, we had to pick a song to describe ourselves, and I chose this one about a "daydream believer," because that's all I ever do. If I believe in daydreams long enough, do you think they can come true? Hey, that rhymed. Totally by accident. I always come out here and do my thinking, even if I don't write. Sometimes I talk out loud. Today I saw the prettiest bird. Even though the sun hadn't set, it looked like an owl, but it was all white, and it was looking at me like it understood what I was saying. Maybe I only imagined it… _

She closed the book, realizing suddenly that the sun was setting and chilly air was blowing off the lake, raising goosebumps along her arms. Picking up Bandit in one arm and the two journals in the other, she started back home. Wherever the little animal had found the book of the past, and whomever it had once belonged to, she didn't feel right leaving exposed to the elements even one day longer.

* * *

Over the next few days, Tommy began to look significantly healthier, and Kim was excitedly anticipating his return home. She recalled with a wry grin his first protests at her suggestion that he stay with her until he was fully recovered. 

"You don't have to do that. I can manage," he'd insisted.

"Well, you probably could," she agreed. "But you'd be hard pressed to get Shasta back. I kind of like having her around here. And she's already paid a month's worth of rent."

"So what you're saying is, you'll hold my dog hostage if I don't stay there." His attempt to look annoyed failed miserably.

"Mr. Oliver, if I didn't have such a healthy level of self-esteem, I might be slightly offended by your repeated attempts to avoid my company," she responded haughtily, and it was this statement that made him smile and agree to let her pick him up when he was discharged.

Too bad they never got that far.

The night before, she received a call from the hospital; so late that she was already in her pajamas for the night and ready for sleep. Her bed was as crowded as ever, with Ned and Gibbs wound around each other on top of one pillow and Betsy sacked out across the foot. She collapsed on her back in the bed just as the phone rang. She shut her eyes, letting it ring twice, then let out her breath in a huff and flung her hand over to the bedside table to lift the receiver.

"Hello?" she asked tiredly.

"Hello, may I speak to Kimberly Hart?" a crisp voice on the other end asked.

"Yes," she answered, sincerely hoping she had not discovered a new breed of annoying telemarketer. Still, something about the other woman's manner made her keep listening.

"I'm calling from St. John's Hospital," she replied, and proceeded, in the gentlest manner possible, to break Kim's heart with the news that Tommy had relapsed and fallen into a coma, with no indication of when he would wake up. Once Kim had gotten all the information she could over the phone, she scarcely said goodbye before dropping the phone back into its cradle and sinking into the mattress, too numb to do more than whimper. In the dark, Betsy's ears caught the noise and she woke up, stretched, and walked a few paces to drop down at her mistress's side. Burrowing under the covers, Kim hugged the dog against her chest as a shield against the cruelty of the world.

* * *

_PS: Don't give me grief on all the disasters that could arise from keeping Bandit. I know it could never work in real life. But I became very fixated on the idea of a tame coon, so he stays._


	7. Chapter 7

(3/7) Notes: Finally, almost 3/4 of the way through, we finally get to the part in the story where I pull out the plot device…I mean, the theme from the movie. Been watching my taped-off-the-air version of it. It's really nice having all the extraneous scenes neatly cut out so that their whole adventure on Phaedos continues without interruption. Now back to your regularly scheduled story.

**

* * *

**

Wiley was nipping her ankles.

She wondered what had brought her back into the bleak world of consciousness until his teeth closed on her skin, not enough to break it but just enough to pinch and leave a faint tooth mark. Lifting her head, she found him lying beside her foot, mouth poised to bite again. When he caught her watching him, he left off this activity and bounced over to yip and yap in her face.

"Get down," she ordered, "and be quiet!" He complied, at least with the first order, when she stood up. "Is this your way of telling me not to be sad? Because trust me, you'd rather have me be sad than ticked off at you," she warned him, angling her foot as if to kick him. The bossy JRT paid her no mind, and continued to bark. "Or maybe, you just really want food." This last word shut him up as ears shut forward in recognition, and he danced his way eagerly to the kitchen.

She had made it halfway to the canister before she realized what felt so off – it wasn't morning. The moon was nearly full and ghostly bright, but the rays illuminating the shadows of the trees were certainly not from the sun.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" she turned to ask the terrier irritably, and found him now springing into the air beside the front door, all four paws leaving the ground as he leapt and hopped straight up and down like a Jack-Russel-in-the-Box. Suddenly, the combination of nerves and stress and grief were cascading on her head, and she couldn't take being in the house anymore.

"You want to go OUT? Fine! Out!" she cried. She yanked open the door. He barely had time to sally forth before she was running after him, still in her pajamas, all manner of sense temporarily abandoning her as she ran to the stables, startling the whole row of sleepy horses as she entered. Nervous snorts and stamps issued up and down the aisle as she grabbed at Fireside's stall door, but though the dark bay looked surprised to see her, he remained otherwise calm. She pushed a halter over his head and tied on a lead rope for makeshift reins while he stood patiently, wondering what strange new trick she was trying to teach him.

"You ever wanted to go for a midnight ride, boy?" she whispered as she quickly buckled straps and tied knots, opening the door and walking him outside. He flicked an ear back to listen to her, and with a last reassuring pat, she placed one hand on his rump, grasped a fistful of his mane with the other, and with two momentum-gathering hops sprang straight from the ground to his back - quite a feat when she kept most of her weight off her left shoulder, which was not quite back to its full strength or range of mobility. She slipped a little, but then her bare feet found a hold off his knee and she was able to get her other leg over his side. Collecting the rope in her heads, she turned him around, barely stopping to get her bearings before she pointed him away from the barn and slapped his haunches. Instantly, the horse shot forth. The surge of power as his coiled muscles bunched and expanded seemed to release some of her frustration.

Throwing caution to the wind, Kim held tight to his black mane, crouched over his neck as the path opened into a stretch of meadow. She ran him through all of it, slowing his canter to a brisk trot only when they entered the forest, on a path wide enough to let him go at this pace. Not until they drew within sight of the lake did she let him walk, slowing down as they reached its shores and the swing and the familiar little cove. Only then did she slip noiselessly from his back, automatically pulling the reins over his head as, shaking, she collapsed on the ground against a tree, knees drawn into her chest, sucking air in deep, gasping breaths as if she were the one who had just run all this way. Fireside huffed and stretched to the edge of his lead, looking for bits of grass. It took very little to restore his mood.

She didn't know how long she sat there, mind swirling with grief and futility and elusive, shadowy thoughts just beyond her reach - thoughts of birds and light and magic, beyond where her prayers had taken her, until at last she whispered, "The animal spirits. They saved Zordon once; if they could only save him…I know I am no longer a ranger, but I need them, if only; I need your help, somehow, please…" She was chanting without realizing it, her eyes closed, repeating the words over and over again.

And as she knelt there in the dirt, she slowly felt the dancing lights return, remembered how, years ago, the creature had first been drawn from her heart. Without realizing it, she got to her feet, palms raised almost reverently, until her eyes snapped open and she breathed in sharply. The beautiful crane was again in all its glory, its essence proudly drifting around her, suddenly there in a medal on a chain around her neck. Something she could only describe as grace set within her, and tears of sorrow melted away.

"Thank you," was all she could manage. "Thank you…my friends." She kissed the bronze engraving. And in the distance, she heard a falcon scream.

* * *

Once again, Kimberly entered the all-too-familiar hospital zone, later than usual, so that an unfamiliar face at the reception desk greeted her. "Visiting hours end in thirty minutes," the heavyset blonde informed her, and Kim nodded. _I'm not just here for a visit,_ she thought as she entered the elevator, touching the metal in her pocket. With its customary ding, the doors slid open on the proper floor and she turned a corner, heading as ever towards room 323.

She pushed open the door, now so used to the machines and wires that she barely even noticed them. Quietly, she pulled her chair up beside the bed, tenderly pushing aside a piece of hair that had fallen over his face, and withdrew the medallion. Its smooth surface gleamed coldly from her palm. Her heartbeat accelerated in anticipation.

"Remember its power, Tommy? You remembered it and believed in it when the rest of us had given him up for lost. I know it's been a long time since either of us was part of the team…but I called the crane, and she _came_. I know it's only one from the group, but I hope…" she stopped suddenly, irrationally fearing that if she spoke any more, the miracle would not occur. Realizing she had no idea how to bring it about anyway, she somewhat awkwardly set it on the bed and covered it with his hand. Nothing happened, but it lay there with such promise that Kim was certain it would only take a minute or two to kick in.

While she waited she gave him updates on the farm, telling him all about how quickly the mischievous little raccoons were growing, and how cleverly sweet Shasta had been the other morning.

"You're not going to believe what she did," she informed Tommy. "I know you've _said_ she loves pancakes, but I had no idea she loved them more than chews.

"I, foolishly, thought that if I made just a small batch of pancakes, I could get away with eating them uninterrupted. Of course that didn't happen; they weren't even done cooking before Shasta was at my feet, whining and desperately half-rearing on her haunches, as though she would _positively _collapse and _expire_ right then and there if she did not receive pancake sustenance. So I gave her a rawhide bone - which as far as I knew was her favorite edible item in the entire world - to distract her. She wagged her tail and ran off with it.

"Three minutes later, I kid you not, something bumps my leg. I look down, and Shasta is back. She very deliberately drops the chew in my lap, backs up, sits down, and looks at my plate expectantly. Can you believe that? Your dog wants to _trade! _She is almost too ridiculously smart for her own good." Kim smiled at the memory, searching for more stories, ending with the tale of the encounter in the woods. Yet not once did the crane give a sign of its presence, not even when the visiting hours officially ended. Though she pushed the time limit, she was finally asked, politely of course, to let the nurses get on with their rounds. Crushed, she slipped the unresponsive medallion back into her pocket unseen.

Having barely had the energy to care for her animals, Kimberly was soon sitting on the living room loveseat, Ned purring saucily in her lap and Gibbs leaning against her leg. She was thinking about the medal again, trying to understand why, even if she couldn't see how, it had come to her. Maybe she hadn't been good enough for it to help her help him, and she grew discouraged for a moment…but then there was that quiet, reassuring voice still echoing in her head, pledging faith in her, refusing to let her admit defeat. She would simply try again.

In the still room of the hospital, had one been watching, they might have seen the great white crane fly past the window, its wings huge and yet still graceful as it soared through the air. They might have noticed a hook-beaked bird swooping into the cover of the forest. And they would, perhaps, have seen the white owl waiting quietly in the tree, deep-set black eyes luminous and unblinking. But no one was watching, and the silent vigil went on.


	8. Chapter 8

**(3/12) Notes: Rangers stuff? No…I'm trying to mention as little from the show as possible so that it only requires a couple of minor changes in order to make this readable for friends and family. Sorry to disappoint you on that note, but I hope you're still interested anyway. This chapter was going to be the last, but then I started adding a whole slew of scenes, and decided I'd better just update as much as I had complete. **

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Split in three sections, overlap and criss-cross, tie the end, and repeat…few things were as soothing as braiding. It was not her own hair moving under Kimberly's hand, however, but Darka's mane.

"Pity they don't make hair dye for horses," she sighed, lifting a few more strands of the mare's formerly black but now sun-browned locks. It was the price every dark horse paid to spend time under summer sun, though in reality it didn't hurt the horses, only the vanity of their owners. As far as Kim was concerned, no equine ought to be deprived of freedom just to be aesthetically pleasing, so she put up with the annual loss of ebony. Darka's mane was neither as long nor as lustrous as Fireside's, but she chose her because it always seemed too feminine to braid the geldings.

"Not even sure why I bother," she mused after a moment. "You have an incredible knack for working them out in 24 hours no matter what I do." Darka snorted and shifted her weight, cocking a hind hoof in a gesture of sleepy contentment, so Kim continued her work. These were not the tight knots of show-jumpers, merely loose and uneven weaves. It was not an especially attractive look, but the repetitive pattern helped calm her nerves and reorganize her thoughts. Today was not the first time she had done so, nor would it be the last.

After a moment, the horse swung her head around and vigorously rubbed her head against her owner's legs. Kim knew the gesture was more about knocking away stubborn flies than showing affection, but she couldn't help but feel loved when Darka followed this gesture by hanging her head over her shoulder. Kim slipped her arms around the horse's neck and hugged her back, face hidden against the animal's powerful, solid presence. Its sleek coat was pleasantly warm with absorbed heat from the sun, and standing there in the open pasture, if only for a moment, life made sense.

Kimberly fielded calls from Aisha, Adam and Billy in a single day, the irony of the order not lost on her. With every subsequent call she knew she ought to explain more, knew she should tell them about the secret hidden away in her drawer, but somehow the words never completely formed themselves. Friends drifted in and out without knowing what to say to her, although not for lack of trying. It was ridiculous to think she had to handle this on her own. The power of the spirits had lain in their teamwork, six individual parts making up a whole, but for reasons she simply_ could not voice_, this time it was about the individual. So she accepted their condolences in brief conversations while simply telling them to keep a positive outlook. On her own time, she alternated humble prayer with reflections on Dulcea, trying to remember every word the spirits' keeper had told her about the crane.

Her visits to Tommy continued regularly, and though she always remembered to tuck the image into her purse or pocket, it became more of a habit than a conscious action. On one trip, she told him all about the latest exploits of the raccoons, including Bandit's nearly pathological desire to bathe in the sink (regardless of whether or not it happened to be filled with dishes at the same time). The females continued to remain strictly outdoor animals, sometimes disappearing for entire day or two. He, however, seemed determined to turn himself into a house pet by emulating everything Ned did.

"But if you don't hurry up and come out of that coma," she warned, wagging her finger at him, "You'll miss their whole cute baby stage, and then I'll have to smuggle them in here. And then I'll get in huge trouble, because if they won't even let therapy dogs in this wing, I can imagine how many heart attacks the staff would have seeing a _raccoon_ sitting on your bed…" Jokes were harder to deliver when you never got a response. She paused to drop a kiss on his forehead. "I love you," she whispered, and left.

It seemed to Kim that summer had just started, and yet when she looked at the calendar, she was shocked to discover it was already the first of August. _Time to re-order feed and bedding_, she mused. After calling the company – a two-hour adventure in rerouting and incompetent responders – she slammed the phone down in disgust. "I hate them. I need to find a new place to order from. Wasn't I going to switch companies last quarter?" Of course, she hadn't, because as infuriating as it was trying to order, once it was placed they were the only local supplier that would deliver straight to the barn. Glancing at the clock, she realized with horror that she was running late was about to miss her chance to visit Tommy at all today.

Racing straight to the car, she opened the unlocked door and glanced down at her purse. Digging impatiently for the keys, Kimberly missed the black-and-white blur that shot inside and crouched out of sight in the back seat, grinning.

Upon arriving at the hospital, she got out, only to gasp at the sound of a bark in her ear. Whirling with disbelief, she looked behind her and found Wiley sitting up, looking quite pleased with himself. "You stowaway," she muttered. "Something about your brain is scrambled, I swear…" she began, and then realized that Wiley now held something in his mouth, a burnished bronze disc. Eyes wide, she recognized the medallion she would have forgotten if not for her clever terrier.

She took it and looked at him in amazement. "I take that back, dog. There is something _spooky_ about your brain…good boy!" He wagged his stump of a tail and prepared to jump out after her.

"Uh-uh," she countered, pushing him back. "You don't get to come in, not even after that display of _wily_ intelligence." His ears pricked up at the sound of his name, then he seemed to shrug, and curled up on the driver's seat to take a nap. Though the day was not unseasonably warm, she rolled the windows down a bit, locked the door, and left him to guard. Kim would be lucky to steal fifteen minutes, but she hurried inside anyway.

"Thought maybe you'd fallen into a coma yourself," joked one of the doctors, who had told her before that he could set his watch by her regular appearances. She smiled thinly, not interested in chatting.

Once in the room, time seemed slower, more leisurely. The quiet was also a time to think, peacefulness she could not hope to obtain at home, and after a minute Kim drew the circle from her purse to study it. Now, looking at the piece more carefully, she saw things she had never bothered to examine before. On one side, of course, the crane was flying through the air, a simplistic etching. On the other side, however, she discovered the image of a falcon's head, and there, so small she had to squint to see it, in its eye was a tiny shape almost like another bird. At the bottom, scripted carefully in miniscule symbols and translated to English above, read _Trinity of Avians_. Though its color had dulled in the past month, when she held it up to the light, letting it sway gently on its chain, she caught tiny glints sparkling here and there.

She cocked her head to the side and frowned as she looked between it and Tommy. The falcon. That had been his spirit. Did it have more weight than the crane, then? And what was the third bird in the trinity? Was she missing some key clue?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden change in the monitor, its beeping increasing with alarming speed. Panicked eyes shot between him and the machines, and without being entirely aware of what it meant, Kim knew that this was not supposed to happen. It was a battle for life, and he was losing. It was a sickened realization.

"No-no-no-no-no. Don't do this to me, not after everything else. It can't be too late," she begged. "I'm not losing you…this isn't happening, you can't _fail!_" she finally wailed in apostrophic despair, not caring where help was or if it was coming at all, just clutching his hand blindly, the medallion in her palm pressed between them.

As though a fire had been kindled, the metal seemed to heat, warming her skin. She felt power flowing from it, until, as in the woods, the crane burst from the surface, draping itself over Tommy, breathing life and grace into him. With a silent scream of triumph, the falcon too burst from the picture, drifting over the crane. Pink and white glows intertwined, a golden tinge cast over them both. Kim watched the spectacle in wide-eyed wonder as the monitors slowed their frenetic pace and calmed themselves, as the outlines of the birds faded. Any moment now, the medical staff would be here, responding to the call that had been so urgent mere seconds ago, but until they did she watched the glowing circles that lingered where crane and falcon had vanished. As they, too, faded, she waited with bated breath…until, groggily, his eyes opened and fixed on her. There was blank confusion for a moment, and then he smiled.

"Tommy!" was her only word as she threw her arms around his neck, a hundred fleeting thoughts channeled into one loving hug.

She wasn't able to stay much longer; there were tests to run and treatment to be administered. With some reluctance she stood up and left him to their care, silently thanking crane and falcon both, sliding the medal as deftly as ever out of sight and into her purse as she did so. All signs pointed towards extremely positive prognosis, and this time she knew there would be nothing else to worry about. Her grin was a mile wide by the time she reached the car, where Wiley was already barking – whether in triumph for the recovery, showcasing that rare and intermittent sign of ESP or merely annoyed with her for having left him alone for so long, she couldn't tell. Still, she cuddled the dog before she drove home, realizing that as infuriating as the beast could be, had he not snuck into the car, had he not been clever enough to grab the item he knew she always carried with, she would not have had the medallion that day. Perhaps she would no longer have Tommy.

"Good boy, Wiley," she affirmed again, nodding at the dog now sitting on the passenger's side. He flicked his tongue between his teeth.


	9. Chapter 9

4/1: Whoops! I got bogged down by school and thought I had posted this already. My apologies for the wait; this chapter isn't any longer or grander than the others, it's just a quiet sort of conclusion.

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Gibbs was the first thing she saw when came through the front door. "He's all right!" she shrieked, just to be able to say it out loud, and bent forward to scoop him up. The frightened cat flattened his ears and raced from the room, so she twirled to the side and reached for Jessa instead, grabbing the dainty forepaws in hers and pulling her up for a waltz. Jess had no love for dancing, but as she pulled her paws out of Kim's hands they balanced on the woman's hips, and the tall Greyhound took the opportunity to lick her owner's face.

Kim was so ecstatic that not even this bothered her, and she continued to whoop victoriously. Her excitable JRT jumped, yipped, and turned near back flips to mirror her enthusiasm, while Betsy grabbed and viciously shook a sock in her efforts to join in on the fun. Shasta stood watching the proceedings with her head cocked curiously to one side, as if trying to understand what strange madness had possessed the room. It was quite some time before Kim regained the power of coherent speech long enough to call family, friends, and anyone else that needed to know.

Later, while lying on her front porch looking at the stars, Bandit jumped onto her chest, chittering happily. She scooped up the raccoon and looked at him. "How come you stayed here, and your two silly sisters went back to the wild? The ingrates. I suppose one of these days you'll find a girlfriend and run off too…" He blinked, then made a noise like a purr and rubbed his head against her hand. She wondered if such feline behaviors were natural, or just the result of hanging around her cats all day. Nevertheless, she was glad to have the soft, comforting weight of his body resting against her as she looked up at the stars, reflecting. True, Tommy would still be in the hospital for a bit longer, but she was more than willing to count down the days until she could say _Tommy will be home tomorrow._**

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**It was quiet, for once, as Kim pulled into the driveway. Every dog was tied up inside, lest one overeager animal trip Tommy up as he got out of the car. His knee bowed out at the first attempt to stand, but she pretended not to notice and merely steadied him without comment. She knew he already felt self-conscious about his lack of strength, and though he minded less with her, there remained a streak of stubborn independence.

Kim's house contained a pair of spare bedrooms, but it was the one on the ground floor that she had fixed for him, mindful of the crutch he was still leaning on for support. Suddenly (irrationally) fearful of seeming condescending and overprotective, she watched anxiously as he entered it and looked around.

Tommy had seen most of the house before, but never had occasion to enter this room. It didn't look as though it got much use, but Kimberly's touches were still apparent, including an attractively framed painting he was more than willing to bet bore her signature in the corner.

When he glanced back he found her standing in the doorway, looking suddenly nervous. "Is it OK? I think I got all of the dog and cat hair out of here; I mean, I don't make any promises it will stay that way, but…"

With a warm smile, he crossed the few steps back the doorway, leaned down, and shushed her rambling with a soft kiss. She was more than willing to reciprocate.

Kim left him to settle in while she made dinner, allowing him time to get cleaned up. There were a few minutes left on the cooking timer when she returned to the room, where he was brushing his hair. "Need help?" she asked, cheerfully anticipating his response.

"Nope."

"Not even a little bit?"

"I seem to recall it was _your_ shoulder that was hurt," he mused playfully, still refusing. "Of all the things that were broken on me, I'm pretty sure my arms weren't among them. Besides, I'm almost done."

"Shut up and give me the comb," she ordered, stern tone undone by a laugh. With a sigh, clearly meant to call attention to her exploitation of his long-suffering patience, he relinquished it and sat down on the bed, the only furniture in the room, facing a floor-length mirror. She settled in cross-legged on the mattress behind him and was quiet for a few minutes, concentrating on the task, before speaking.

"Tommy? What do you remember…if you remember anything…about what happened before you woke up?"

"Taking the role of hair stylist seriously, I see."

"I mean it. During the last month."

"The last month where I've been completely unconscious?" he asked, eyes twinkling.

She nudged him impatiently. "Would you please answer the question?"

Finally, he left off the teasing and looked thoughtful. When he spoke, his voice was also somewhat hesitant. "Honestly, I don't know. Everything's basically just a confusing mess, except for one time, just one voice …"

"And?" she pressed, now resting her chin on his shoulder, comb fallen by the wayside.

"And…I'm going to use the excuse that I was having a flashback or something, because I could have sworn it was Dulcea. There, go ahead and laugh," he said, meeting her gaze in the mirror.

"Trust me…I wouldn't laugh," Kim said with quiet conviction, eyes gazing elsewhere with an expression he couldn't read.

Not wanting to break the moment by asking anything further, Tommy merely closed his eyes and turned his head ever so slightly to touch hers.

Perched next to him on the porch bench that night, Kim began to relate the story, or at least as much of it as she understood. While she spoke, Shasta lay faithfully at her master's feet. Wiley climbed into Kim's lap and Gibbs came purring along the top of the bench to drape himself over her shoulder, so Tommy slipped his arm around her waist instead. Both were caught up in the magic of the story, Kim's voice weaving like a dreamcatcher as she spun out the tale, fingers similarly laced with his.

Later, as they slept, a shadowy white bird fluttered through an open window. Silently, it walked toward the dresser and scooped up the now-blank medallion, slipping it over its head, whereupon it flew back outside. It hooted twice, softly. In response, the white crane stalked forward from the shadow of the woods, and the falcon fluttered out from the trees. Together, they spread their wings, bowed as one, and lifted into the air, above the trees and then past the clouds themselves. Three oddly matched birds streaked as a single blur of light into the distance, without a witness, and the sacred trinity left as they had come.

When Kim awoke the next day, she found the medallion gone. Then she knew for certain whom the third bird had been, and in her heart she knew Dulcea had come for it, taking back what she had freely given. Still, without its presence, it was hard to believe the whole thing had not been some figment of her imagination.

A month later, Kim stood with Tommy on the high point of the trail to scatter the ashes of Rebelage. The air was cool, but not terribly chilly, as he released the container. With his arm around her, both watched the horse's remains fluttering down, disappearing from sight, and then she looked at the beauty around her. The scene before her stood as it might have looked a thousand years ago, etched like an oil painting. Deer were hidden somewhere in the depths of the trees, as were foxes and squirrels and rabbits, but her eyes were on the sky, trained on a distant pair of majestic birds of prey. Be they eagles, hawks, or even true falcons, they soared in loops over the sun, their fierce calls a triumphant reminder of everything wild, free, proud…and alive.

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a/n: The end, she has been reached. It's been a fun month. I adore everybody that left me such positive reviews (or will leave them in the future); they mean more to me than you know.

Rainbow Stevie


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